


After The Storm

by loyalnerdwp



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Developing Relationship, Episode: s01e01 A Study in Pink, Episode: s01e02 The Blind Banker, Episode: s01e03 The Great Game, Episode: s02e01 A Scandal in Belgravia, Episode: s02e02 The Hounds of Baskerville, Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Free Verse, M/M, One Shot, POV Second Person, POV: John Watson, Poetry, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 09:04:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loyalnerdwp/pseuds/loyalnerdwp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>It's always him.</em><br/>Title stolen from Mumford & Sons' song 'After the Storm'</p>
            </blockquote>





	After The Storm

It's the rush of adrenaline  
The breathless laugh  
A forgotten limb and a look of shock  
Returned with one that says 'I told you so'  
It's the sliver of fear  
When you figure out what's happening  
And a pound of relief when you show up just in time  
It's telling him he's an idiot  
And him denying with a hint of a smirk  
And the secret between you  
That's worth his life  
It's sitting in your new flat  
With takeaway on the coffee table  
Discovering he shouts at the telly  
And really does play violin  
(Even at two A.M.)  
It's the little row you get into when he points out you've had a nightmare  
And you refuse to tell him what about  
The sitting room is silent for nearly an hour  
Until he asks if he's supposed to apologise  
And you can't resist a chuckle to yourself before you say it's all fine.

 

\--

 

It's the devious look on his face  
When you get back from the failed shopping  
To see he's not moved  
Or so you think  
(But you're never quite sure with him)  
It's his on-the-spot behaviour  
That has you out the door after him without a question  
Defending him before you realise you are  
And following his instructions  
It's walking around Chinatown aimlessly  
With only a notebook  
When you wonder what you're doing there  
But you're off again before you figure it out anyhow  
It's the dread that weighs your shoulders  
When you hear the gunshot reverberate around you  
And for a moment you hope to god it's not him  
But of course it's not and you feel terrible for being relieved  
It's calling the police and holding a facade that you know he can see through  
Trying not to let it be so obvious that this is just another body you've added to a never ending list  
And you slam your bedroom door when you get home  
It's the single knock and a quiet clink that lets you know he's left tea  
And you wonder if this sociopath is less than that  
But of course he is and you send him a simple thanks through text  
He responds with the violin and you smile to yourself but don't drink the tea because it's really quite terrible  
It's waking up with bleary eyes and a sharp pain in your head  
To firelight and a woman who has it all wrong  
It's wishing deep down for someone to show up  
And of course it's him and he's making jokes  
Of all the goddamn things he could do  
But it all ends just fine.

 

\--

 

It's gunshots the second you step in the door  
And fearing that he's gotten himself into something again  
Only to come up and see a supposedly empty sitting room  
And then you figure it out and he _has your gun_  
It's this time in between each case where you swear he acts up just to get under your skin  
It's an insult that drives you away  
Sends you to the kerb and makes you reach out  
And sitting in the taxi you think you heard something  
But maybe he's just managed to get the gun back out  
It's waking up in the morning with a throbbing shoulder  
A reminder that you still need to be careful  
And then the telly re-lights that spark of terror  
It's thinking for the first time _no, god, not him_  
And relief when you see your home is still intact  
Moreso when you your bastard of a flatmate is there  
Still ~~stunning~~ arrogant as ever  
Sitting in his chair with that violin  
And somewhere in the back of your mind is a little voice  
Saying _oh god thank you _  
It's the smile he gets when he thinks you've done something clever  
Or even something far from clever  
And listening to his thoughts spoken aloud  
Unbelievable in how fantastic and logical they are  
(Even if he called you an idiot again.  
In truth, it's become a term of endearment most of the time.)  
It's cab rides and texts and tea and that bloody coat  
The proud look in Lestrade's eyes when he looks at him  
Or the annoyed one  
Or the angry one  
And the witty insults he throws around at everyone  
Including yourself  
It's wanting to shout at him because this game is becoming too much  
All those people, all those lives  
More tallies on your list of bodies you're even slightly accountable for  
A child that doesn't have a clue what's happening  
And him with a wide grin despite the circumstances  
But you can't do anything because the situation is getting worse  
And of course he fixes it and you have to resist slapping him and ~~kissing him~~  
What?  
It's a shake of your head when your thoughts have gotten away from you  
A reminiscent smile when he shouts at the telly  
It's being logical and not fighting when a throaty voice tells you not to struggle  
And knowing he'll be able to get you out of this too  
The look in his eyes when for just a second he doesn't get it  
And you want to shout and tell him everything  
Anything  
It's the heat of your blood when that madman comes out  
And being prepared to die for him  
Because the world would be no different without you  
But they need him  
So you do what you have to  
But you end up backing away  
And he ends up leaving anyhow  
Twice  
And you're both fine  
Thank god he's fine. __

 

__\--_ _

__  
__

__It's trying to explain to him  
That just because you are flatmates  
Does not mean he can walk around without clothing  
And doing the dirty work for him  
Because he's the laziest git you've ever met  
But it's not all terrible  
Even when he shouts and whines and groans and insults you and  
Well  
It's still not that terrible  
When you get moments like laughing with your pants-less friend  
(Like that first night, but with less clothing  
And god that doesn't sound right, you think.)  
On a couch in Buckingham Palace and acting like kids  
Teasing his brother and making jokes  
It's a spiral of confusion when you see a  
(Quite frankly)  
Gorgeous - and naked - woman straddling him on the sofa  
And a spike of jealousy that you don't quite understand  
It's wondering again if this man truly is an asexual  
And wondering why you're not more distracted by the stark woman in the room  
But this isn't a time for those thoughts anyhow  
It's hearing something near terror in his tone  
When there's a gun to your head  
And you wonder if you mean more to him than he lets on  
And also hope that he hurries up  
And of course he does  
It's having Lestrade help you get him home  
And being torn between giggling and swatting away the camera  
It's when you get him to his room and the DI is elsewhere  
And he tries to kiss you  
You don't think about it more than a moment before you just push him back down on the bed  
And draw up the duvet  
But it rings in your mind as you walk out  
(He was just drugged, you remind yourself  
But it doesn't help much.)  
It's the call from Mycroft that lets you know  
He actually is heartbroken  
Or as much as he can be  
And you wonder why you aren't more angry that your girlfriend has just left you  
It's having to try and explain to the three other people in the flat  
Without giving anything away  
But they leave without much because they're good people  
And he comes home  
Doesn't say a word before going to his room  
And doesn't come out for two days  
(Save three times for necessary reasons.)  
It's being kidnapped by Mycroft  
Only to find out that it wasn't Mycroft  
And your best friend has been 'heartbroken' for nothing  
It's not shock  
But anger  
It's wondering if everyone in the city of London is insane  
If they truly think you and him are together  
It's the endearment you feel when you see him and Mrs. Hudson together  
How you start to think his heart is bigger than anyone knows  
It's coming home to find her there  
It's jealousy that shouldn't be so deep-rooted  
It's wondering where they've all disappeared to  
Sitting home at the computer and feeling put out  
And a bit abandoned  
But he comes home  
And of all things  
He looks happy  
And you only feel a bit guilty when you tell him a few days later  
Because you figure he already knows anyhow  
What became of her  
And later that evening he plays violin  
And everything is fine. _ _

 

__\--_ _

__  
__

It's not feeling concerned when he comes home covered in blood  
And then being concerned that you aren't concerned  
It's helping get stains out of his clothing without a second thought  
Because this is what you do now  
This is your life  
It's knowing that it isn't the cigarettes that he needs  
And knowing that he's deteriorating  
Seeing the desperation in his eyes between each case hurts every time  
Because there is nothing you can do for him  
It's trying not to cuff him when he's rude to a client  
But that's become a fun game of restraint  
For him at least  
(To you it's just annoying.)  
It's acting along when you have no idea what he's up to  
And getting a bit of money out of the deal  
It's realising it's not just the city of London  
But maybe the entire UK  
Who thinks you're together  
And a snippet of a memory of him leaning up toward you flashes behind your eyelids  
But you pass it off and ignore the man's question  
(He looks disappointed.)  
It's seeing something foreign in his eyes  
Something that doesn't belong there  
And it's fear  
And you want to help  
But there's another insult that cuts deep  
So you leave him be and contemplate again what you're doing  
But this is your life  
You've chosen this  
So when he apologises  
(And your heart swells)  
And he drugs your coffee  
And he acts like a brilliant smug little son of a bitch  
You manage to pass it off  
Because he's something you have now  
And you're the only thing he has  
And it's all fine.

_  
_

_\--_

_  
_

It's wondering when you got so comfortable walking about in just a robe around him  
When seeing a mannequin in a noose became something of routine  
And teasing him about it was your way of having a chat  
It's rushing to meet Lestrade at the Tower  
And feeling that same fear you first felt when that madman threatened him  
And now it's happening again  
And you can only hope to protect him  
It's bailing him out  
Because he's still your idiot flatmate  
Who acts high and mighty at the actual worst moments  
And you wonder if he thinks he's invincible  
It's figuring out that the madman is going to your home  
And demanding information when he won't give it  
All he does is play that violin  
And you break that evening and shout at him  
He sits  
Quiet  
And takes it without a word in return  
Because (or so you figure) he can see that you're afraid not for yourself but for him  
Maybe he feels guilty  
But then you think it's possible he doesn't know remorse  
The thought makes you feel even worse and you damn it  
You know this man more than anyone  
And you know that isn't him  
It's two months without information that keep you both on edge  
And you being nervous because he isn't complaining  
At all  
And being kidnapped by Mycroft again  
And this time it really is him  
It's worrying now that there are people watching you  
But there's a case and you're on the move again  
And it does feel great for the most part  
But children are missing and he's exuberant as always  
So you have to remind him because he just doesn't understand  
And that's alright  
Because this is what he needs you for  
(And maybe a bit of companionship on the side.)  
It's feeling betrayal when things turn against you  
When Lestrade wants him to go but he refuses  
They return with the warrant and he goes willingly  
It's when you decide that that's unacceptable  
And so you retaliate  
It's the satisfying feeling of knuckles against flesh  
And the not as satisfying sharp hold of metal cuffs  
But they're holding you to his side where you belong  
And you know things will pull through  
It's that rush and that burn as you run  
Side by side  
Hand in hand  
And you suddenly don't mind if people talk  
Because it seems like a fantastic idea there under a streetlight  
To kiss some sense into him  
But you're on your tiptoes and it's only a moment before you're on a crate and on the other side  
In the dark flat of the woman working against you  
And you're waiting in silence  
His fingers tapping and ever so slightly disturbing the handcuff's hold  
And the thought to kiss him comes back  
But you can't find your nerve before the light flicks on  
It's pain and confusion and raw anger  
Him not saying anything  
And the madman who might not-  
No of course he is  
Denying everything  
A document that proves the story  
And then you're off again after the madman  
It's him disappearing once again  
It's stinging betrayal  
It's not tackling Mycroft  
It's pure fear and you can't stand it  
It's a text that says _Bart's, if convenient or otherwise_  
And it almost brings tears to your eyes  
But you're a soldier  
So you soldier on  
And get a cab  
It's feeling inadequate  
Because you can't help enough  
It's sleeping in a place that used to be familiar  
A crick in your neck  
An ache in your leg  
A phone call that changes everything  
It's something you didn't think about before you let it go  
But what's said is said and you've somewhere to be  
Until it all clicks together  
So you're back out  
It's all hot blood under your skin and pounding in your ears  
Silent wishes _of_ _don't do this without me  
Please be careful  
I knew it I knew it I knew it_  
It's realising you didn't know it  
That the madman is nowhere in sight  
That you're being fed lies because _no_ god no you won't believe it for a second  
It's knowing he isn't telling you something  
And he's too close to that edge  
It's seeing the small blur of his phone tossed away  
All connection is cut off  
It's watching with horror  
Numb  
Shocked  
As he falls  
 _And you think no, god no  
Not him please  
Anyone but him_

 ____

__And nothing is fine._ _

 

\--

 

It's three long years  
Alone  
It's trying to stay for Mrs. Hudson  
But moving because you need to breathe  
It's trying to date  
Trying to move on  
But there's a pang that reminds you  
It was always him  
It's too many different jobs  
Because one boss believes the stories  
And another expects you to be over it  
And you can't stand being in one place so long anyhow  
Because mundane is never good anymore  
It's a violin and a skull and a blue gown and a bloody scarf  
Packed away in a box with more of his things  
Things you want to bin and burn and bury with him  
But you need them because they're what remain of him  
And you need him  
Because it was always him  
It's not understanding yet again  
What went wrong and how you lost him  
It's not returning to Scotland Yard  
But still attempting to talk to Lestrade  
Still calling Mrs. Hudson  
But never submitting to Mycroft's kidnapping attempts  
(He stops attempting after the first two months.)

It's hating your life for the first year  
Having to listen to the gossip  
And ignore the stares of those who knew  
And those who assumed  
And those who hated him  
And those who  
In turn  
Hate you  
It's waking up happy only to remember  
It's his very memory that pains you  
Because what you've lost was extraordinary  
And it left you feeling empty  
And just like you were before.

It's the pitying smile of Mrs. Hudson when you visit  
The hopeless look on Harry's face when she tries to help  
It's your own guilt when Lestrade lugs you home  
Drunk  
Half asleep  
Crying but not sobbing  
It's running into Sally at Tesco and trying not to shout  
Trying not to blame her for everything  
Because it wasn't her fault  
It was that madman's  
He was real  
He tore your life apart  
And took away what you needed.

It's two long years later  
Of sitting alone in your flat  
Which is nowhere near what you need  
This flat is not Baker Street or 221B  
It's not late nights and takeaway  
There's no face on this wall  
This table is bare  
This floor is clear of papers  
This air is empty of bittersweet violin  
This flat will never be home  
 _You will never be whole_ your mind tells you  
And you agree.

It's three long years later  
Of dredging through  
Surviving  
(But, truly, only just.)  
It's coming home to a quiet flat and a quiet room  
You don't cry anymore  
And you don't try anymore  
And you're just  
So tired  
And so worn  
And the ache in your leg reminds you it was once nonexistent  
And it was because of him  
But it's because of him that it's back too  
You manage a real laugh then  
When you think that he really was such a bipolar bastard.

 

\--

 

It's month two of the fourth long year  
And you've woken up in the middle of the night  
Is there any question as to why?  
And your routine is as such;  
Breathe  
Rub the sheet over your eyes  
Pick up the cane  
Go to the kitchen  
Drink your tea  
(Because, even without him, tea will taste the same. Because it is tea, and tea doesn't change.)  
And it's limping into the kitchen when something feels wrong  
But because everything feels wrong  
Is there really any change?  
And you turn on the kettle  
And you steep your tea  
And you remind yourself that you only need to make one  
And of course  
It turns out that you don't.

It's hobbling back into the sitting room  
It's dropping your mug in surprise  
Cutting your foot on a piece of the ceramic  
And rubbing your eyes  
It's thinking _not again please_  
And when he speaks your chest throbs  
And when a cold hand touches your arm you feel like passing out  
But you're a soldier  
And you soldier on  
So like a soldier  
You punch him.

It's sitting on your sofa  
With him next to you  
And you're cleaning the blood off his face but not saying anything  
You've said nothing since he showed up  
And he doesn't try to make you  
It's listening to him try to explain  
It's seeing the rings under his eyes  
The evident weight loss  
The unfitting light stubble dusting his too pale skin  
It's knowing he's as much of a wreck as yourself  
But you're still broken  
So you tell him to kip on the sofa  
In this flat that isn't home  
And you go to the room that you've been surviving in for too long  
It's not being able to sleep but just being  
So tired  
It's almost drifting off  
But the door creaks when it opens  
And he's in your room  
There's a beat of silence  
Before his footsteps start  
And their sound is so familiar  
It's tears in your eyes  
But you're a soldier  
So you soldier on  
And when the sheets shift you contemplate telling him to get out  
But he curls up behind you  
And a long arm drapes over you  
And you can't tell him to go  
So one of your hands settle on his and the tears show back up  
And you're a soldier  
But the soldier is just  
So tired  
And you cry silently until you fall asleep  
But he's there  
And that's what you need for now.

It's waking up with his hair tickling your neck  
His smell surrounding you  
His hand clutching yours like a lifeline  
And you feel  
So relieved  
Because it was always him  
And it always will be  
And you turn over  
His hand still around yours  
And he mumbles a simple _good morning_  
And you say _I hate you_  
And he says he knows  
And you say _I missed you_  
And he says he knows  
And you say _I love you_  
It's the quiet filling the room  
It's realising that this was something he didn't know  
And he says he loves you too  
And because you can  
Because you missed it so much  
You tease him  
And you say _I know_ _._

It's later  
And you've hardly moved  
You've gotten up once  
Him; twice  
But you both end up back in the bed that once was yours  
And there are lips on lips  
Hips against hips  
Hands everywhere  
A stroke;  
A thrust  
Whispered sentiment  
And when it's all over  
And you're curled up against him  
Half asleep  
He says _I need you_  
And you say _I know_  
And _I need you, too_  
And he apologises  
And nothing is fine  
But maybe it will be.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Re-Posting because AO3 screwed up the coding. Never posting from my iPod ever again. Feedback and kudos are always appreciated. To those who frequently read stuff I write, what do you think of this style?


End file.
